Chapter 879: Advance or Retreat

With Mbappé scoring successfully, the match score has now reached 0:2.

Due to their completely opposing stances, the celebratory roars of the French fans sounded somewhat grating to the ears of the Chinese national team supporters.

"This goal by Mbappé... hiss, indeed, there's no fault to be found."

"Mm, Mbappé's header wasn't actually struck all that well; I believe this goal must primarily be credited to Dembélé, whose setup for that header was truly excellent."

"Dembélé's performance in this match is indeed a bit exaggerated..."

Regardless of who played the greater role in this second goal, France had undeniably extended their lead.

"Wahoo!"

Mbappé crossed his arms, tucking his five fingers beneath his armpits; this was the French striker's favorite celebration move.

"Knee slide! Knee slide!"

From the stands, French fans shouted at Mbappé, hoping their idol would perform the three-striped knee slide to crush the Chinese team's morale.

"Oh, fuck!"

Mbappé spread his hands toward the stands, shaking them to indicate he could not accept the suggestion, then immediately embraced Konaté, who had run up behind him.

"..."

The match resumed; it was now the 40th minute of the first half. Escrivá's teeth were clenched tightly together, blue veins bulging on his face.

Although Ferran always gave people a flustered impression, the mindset of the Chinese national team's head coach today was clearly somewhat off.

Did he seem to have run out of tricks?

But this was unavoidable, for judging by the situation on the pitch, the Chinese team had consistently been the side under pressure. Since they were being suppressed, frequently facing opponent shots was an inevitability they had to confront.

"The Chinese team truly needs to devise a solution now..."

"Mm, as we said, the team as a whole is currently trailing, and trailing by two goals. Therefore, in the second half, the Chinese team's tactics cannot focus primarily on defense; eh, instead, they must proactively seek change! They must hunt for attacking opportunities. This is what the Chinese players need to do right now."

"..."

"Beep, beep-beep—!!"

"Alright, the first half has ended; the score is temporarily fixed at 0:2, with France currently leading by two goals!"

The halftime whistle blew; now the large screen displayed Tang Ye's face, the captain of the Chinese national team, his eyebrows knitted together, an inexplicable sense of grievance in his expression.

Two paths now lay before the Chinese team: the first was to fight France to the bitter end, attempting it even if the success rate was less than 10%.

The second path was more conservative: strategically abandoning this match and shifting focus to the upcoming third-place final.

Here, the CCTV commentators synchronized a piece of information for the fans: the knockout stage schedule for this World Cup was extremely tight; if the Chinese national team lost and was eliminated in the semifinals, they would face the third-place final in just four days, meaning the players would have absolutely no chance to display their best form in that match.

If the upper bracket was like this, the lower bracket need not even be mentioned.

In the lower bracket, whichever of Argentina or Portugal lost would have only three days of rest before beginning their third-place final.

Hiss...

Viewed from this angle, if the Chinese team conserved their strength in today's match, might they not gain an enormous advantage in the third-place final?

Whether playing against Portugal or Argentina, they would hold advantages in both physical stamina and mental state!

Thus, advance or retreat had become a question the Chinese national team absolutely had to discuss during halftime.

"Everyone, sit down quickly; mm, as fast as possible, let's save some time."

"For the second half, my idea is to not make too many substitutions for the time being."

As soon as Escrivá finished speaking, the eyes of the players in the locker room immediately turned toward him.

Not making too many substitutions for the time being...

Didn't the meaning behind these words amount to abandoning the chance to win? It was just that, with the match currently in progress, certain things could not be stated explicitly.

"Actually, we're only down by two."

Tang Ye chimed in.

"..."

Escrivá shook his head gently; he understood Tang Ye's meaning: "But you should have seen that what we are trailing by is not merely two goals."

"Dembélé and Mbappé are splitting across two lanes; we simply have no way to deal with both of them simultaneously."

"And as I said, Dembélé and Mbappé might not even be the key issue; the most critical problem is Koundé and Theo (Hernández). These two full-backs are what truly make us uncomfortable; as long as they are on the pitch, we can do nothing."

Tang Ye bit down on his teeth.

He wanted to continue saying something, but reason told him he was wrong, so Tang Ye simply turned his head away, unwilling to engage in further argument.

"Actually, I just... I feel we still have a chance; we've won previous matches too. It's just that today's match is a bit more difficult."

"The difficulty isn't just 'a bit,' Tom."

"..."

Seeing Tang Ye remain silent, Escrivá stepped forward: "I know what you mean, and I know what the rest of you are thinking; you want to win, right? Well, of course I want to win too!"

"But we need to be a bit more rational; that is what a Gao Shuiping sports team should do."

"I also want to reach the final, but since the probability of advancing to the final is small, we must find ways to increase the probability of securing third place. Can you understand my meaning? Do you know what I'm saying?"

Escrivá's words were easy enough to understand, but accepting them was truly not an easy matter.

"So we are directly giving up, is that it?"

Zhang Zhang Yuning looked at Escrivá.

"No, of course not; in the second half we will make some adjustments and try to equalize the score, because this is the World Cup."

"But I will not demand that you grind it out to the death against the opponent."

"..."

After he finished speaking, the locker room fell silent; the Chinese national team members in the room unanimously looked toward Tang Ye, who had not spoken for a long time.

In fact, Escrivá was also looking in Tang Ye's direction.

"..."

"Hoo..."

"Then let it be so."

It sounded somewhat like a compromise, but to put it plainly, Tang Ye was still insisting on his own idea: "Although it looks like a huge gap, like I said, we are indeed only two goals behind; I will find a way to give it a try."

Escrivá nodded: "Yeah, of course, I will try as well."

Escrivá walked over, and Tang Ye raised his hand to bump fists with the coach.

"We are only two goals behind, so just say whether or not we are only two goals behind."

On the way to the player tunnel, Tang Ye shared his understanding with his teammates.

"I know, what you said is correct, Tang Ye. But what he (Escrivá) said is also correct."

"If we grind it out against the opponent in this match and lose, then we will lose the third-place match as well."

"What if we win?"

Tang Ye looked into Wu Lei's eyes, leaving the latter speechless with a single sentence.

"This..."

"Then you need to know which probability is greater. Forget it, forget it, let's not talk about it; anyway, just give it your all, and don't put too much psychological burden on yourself."

Wu Lei shook his body, took a deep breath, lifted his head to look at the ceiling, and mentally prepared for the upcoming second half.

The players were waiting to enter the field; at this moment, only Escrivá and Martí remained in the locker room.

"Actually, you could have said nothing and simply postponed the substitutions for the second half."

"If I had done that, they would not have accepted this result."

Escrivá glared fiercely at Martí: "I had no choice!"

"This thing was bound to happen eventually; it might as well be now."

"..."